


The Queer Quest of One Kim Grosso

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [34]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, The Man With Eyes - Fandom
Genre: And also between jo n henry and kim n niamh, Between jo jack jameson and johnny, Crushes, Established Relationship, Fun, Gen, Happy Ending, Modernish AU, Niamh and Kim are Kinda Weird :), Queerplatonic Relationships, Swearing, THESE MEN TOO SHY TO HECKIN K I S S, Trapped In Elevator, WE IN IT LADS - random, Worry, everybody is trying to make kim kis jo and he just wants to cry, kim is Too Bi for this, random will be adding tags from now on bc im bad at them - control, supportive wingman wife niamh, the Green Dwarves make a return, theyre from a really old fic dont worry abt them theyre explained anyways, tom n shawn shortly bein asshat cupids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Subtitle: To Discover Why His Boss is So Hot
Relationships: Kim Grosso & Joey Drew, Kim Grosso/Niamh O'Flannel
Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1016235
Comments: 11
Kudos: 4





	The Queer Quest of One Kim Grosso

**Author's Note:**

> chronologically after 'not a therapist'

Ever since the incident with Eska’s therapist, Kim had been swallowed into thought more and more.

Mostly one thought.

It was about his employer.

He did not know what kind of thought it was.

Not angry or violent for sure - it was way too hard having thoughts like those about Johan Ramirez, unless of course you were either a git and/or wanted a whole animation studio’s worth of family to punt you into orbit.

Actually, the thought was much more like a feeling with undefined thoughts attached.

It usually helped him visualize feelings to get some sort of hold on them. Despite being wildly detrimental to his mental health, years of bottling the damned things up, until quite recently, had made him quite skilled at visualizing them.

The problem: he didn't know how to visualize _this_ _one_ in particular.

So, when he finished his quota for the day, instead of getting on a head start for the next, Kim decided to scout out where Johan was, and for a gossip, it was not so difficult for him as it might have been for others. 

Johan was in the pub room ( _ Break _ room, as the man would insist), playing pool with Jack.

“Ah, hello there, Kim!” Johan smiled, bright and happy. “Would you care to j-join us?”

“Winner gets a kiss from Doe,” Jack grinned, nudging Johan, who blushed darkly. “The fella right here’s been pretty keen on earning one.”

“You are, too,” Joey fumbled back, his hand wringing around his cue stick. Jack laughed, pointing out, “I’m in the music department with him, I can snatch one whenever I’d like.”

“Ah,” Kim raised his hands in a show of no ill intention, “I'll pass, then, but thank you. Don't wanna intrude in private matters.”

Jack clearly took that as a challenge: “You think that you’ll beat me? Ha! Grab a pole and if you win over me, I’ll go without coffee for a day.”

“I'll pass, I said! I don't even like pool….”

“Would you like t-to team with me?” Johan asked him. “Jameson can play with Jack - and Jack isn’t likely to let you out of here until you play.”

“True,” Jack smirked.

With a groan, the toy maker gave in, more convinced about the song writer's stubbornness than his own actual skill. Johan buzzed a pager, and a few moments later, Jameson showed up, smiling genially and tipping his cap at each of them. 

“I'm sorry if I make you lose.” Kim mumbled to his pool partner.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be any p-problem,” Johan shrugged, patting his shoulder. “I  _ am _ the owner of this studio, and can also see Johnny when I’d like. It’s just f-fun to earn it.”

It was a heated game. Well, not the first round, because it turned out that Jack was even worse than Kim, though he was a good sport even in his loss. Jameson took his place against Kim, and left the other toy maker no choice but defeat, wiping the table clean. The darker man left Johan his space, the sting of losing a mere mosquito bite on his pride.

Johan and Jameson clearly were equally matched, what Johan lacked in finesse he made up in smiles and good sport. He beat Jameson by one point, and was happy to be conceded the kiss by Jack. He patted Kim’s back.

“Thank you!” he told him. “It was quite a fun game, don’t you think? You’re n-not half bad.”

Kim smiled, if a little lopsidedly, though Johan’s was also a bit shifted as well: “Thank you! You're, ah… Well, you're very good of course!”

So, Kim thought he discovered what the feeling was; a warm friendship. Of course, as Johan was a sweetheart and gentle soul, and it was a friendship as true as Shawn’s, but in a softer way. 

“Oh, you f-flatterer.” Johan blushed, grin opening on the lovely snowy scene of his teeth as he weightlessly made his way to the staircase: “And now if you'll excuse me, but I have a kiss to get.”

That smile made Kim’s brain screech to a halt, just like the last time. 

He suddenly realized that he did  _ not _ know what the emotion was. 

More investigation was definitely needed, or he would be going absolutely insane.

So the next day, at the first moment of freedom, he jumped out of his chair and onto a mythical quest to find the man; a quest which lasted ten minutes and ended in the ink machine room, where both Johan and Thomas seemed very busy at work, both having taken off their dress shirts and working in tank tops in the warmth of the studio and the heat of lifting metal pieces.

His polite instincts got the best of his curiosity, and he was just about to sneak away again and leave them be, when he noticed what exactly Johan was doing. Thomas was mostly welding, Johan holding up the plating and pipework.

His throat went dry in a second, taking in the smooth muscular structure of the man’s arms, some sweat lining his form, and he found himself unable to leave.

Coincidentally, in that same second Joey noticed his presence and smiled politely, his thin frame not faltering in the slightest under the weight it sustained.

“Hello there, Kim,” Joey nodded, shifting the pipe to wave at him. 

Hi, Kim would have said.

“You're strong.” was the thing his cracked voice spat out of his lips.

Thomas chuckled, “I am, and probably tougher than Drew.”

“Mhm, sure,” Johan rolled his eyes, and then replied to Kim. “Comes with being t-tall, I assume. Gotta keep the height up somehow.”

He agreed on that. Hot damn did he agree on that. (Actually, had he been less concentrated on how metaphorically and literally hot Johan was, he might have asked himself a question or two regarding his own height and strength, especially about how he was able to hold his bones up instead of having them fall to the ground like a bag of potatoes considering his strength was nothing out of the ordinary. Did he have bones even? He was not sure his body was supposed to bend in ways it did. Alas, he was too much of a bisexual disaster, and instead of answering his own queries he was stuck thinking about why he was so attracted to anyone who could just mercilessly beat his ass in a fist fight, though he doubted Johan would ever hurt a fly, and for some reason that made it all the hotter. Maybe it was the idea of such a strong and stunning man allowing him, Kim, to do as he pleased, to feel his muscles and touch his face. Kim decided that he definitely needed a fan at the moment, or he might melt into a literal puddle and prove once and for all whether or not he had bon-)

“You good, Kim?” Thomas asked, furrowing his brows, since the toy maker had been staring wordlessly for about three minutes. His words broke Kim’s trail of thought. “Need anything?”

Kim gave a wheeze that doubled as a ‘I Am Fantastic Thank You For Asking’, turned around, and all but ran out the room hoping his face pitch black with blushing had not been noticed.

Johan came to check on him.

His dress shirt was tossed over his shoulder, though he appeared freshly cleansed, his hair done back in a braid. 

“Is everything alright? You didn't look very good…” he asked in a worried, no, concerned tone, pulling out a chair to sit by the toymaker. Kim nodded, eyes on his hands, the feeling turning and churning in his stomach, crossing over his legs unnoticeably under his work bench so his leg would not bounce. “Would you like a d-day off?”

This time he shook his head. He could have tried saying words, but he doubted that would have ended well.

“If you ever need anything,” Johan told him, getting up, “Don’t be shy t-to ask.”

Kim mumbled something that could have been a thank-you. When his boss was out of the room, he let his head fall on the table and gave a slow, kind of done groan.

“Somethin’ the matter, laddie?” Shawn, also concerned, asked, for once not teasing him for his blush.

“I am experiencing feelings,” Kim answered, not lifting his head.

“What kinda?”

“Wouldn't I like to know.”

“Talk ta Niamh about ‘em?” Shawn furrowed his brow. “Maybe she can help ya think it out.”

His friend hummed, unsure.

Empirically trying to understand what he felt had proved a complete failure. Every encounter with Johan had only amplified the emotion's intensity, but done nothing to explain its nature.

Frustrating as it was, it was also madly interesting. He could see his friendship with Shawn in it, and his love for Niamh in it. It was not quite either and it was not quite both. It jumbled around in his hands like the spherical manifestation of confused shrug.

“Is there a color for something like that?” he asked his wife that night, head on her lap as she read The Shadow Over Innsmouth for possibly the hundredth and thirteenth time.

Niamh stared into the floor for a couple of seconds, ruminating her knowledge. “ ‘s got brown f'r sure.” she began, “Maybe a bit a’ white.”

“It's surprise right? White?”

“Ye. And some orange too, but ye always got orange on ye, ‘cos yer always a little worried.” she chuckled, one of her plump hands carding through his dreadlocks.

Kim furrowed his brows deeper; the golden particles in his dark brown eyes seemed to shake and melt.

“I don't wanna ruin anything.” he mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. “I don't wanna push you or him away.”

“Yer not ruinin’ anythin’, cushlamachree.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively so. Dun’ wærry yer wee lov'ly head.”

“You should go to sleep.”

“An’ why's ‘hat?”

“Your accent is going wild, darling.”

“Ach. Busted.”

***

On Niamh’s suggestion over coffee in the morning, Kim went over to Willy to ask his advice. 

The janitor listened closely to his understandably vague description of what was going on in his brain whenever he thought of Johan, chin in his hand and face grimaced in concentration.

After a couple minutes he had to admit defeat: “I don't think I can help you with something like that…. You should go find Eska for these things. He knows all about the green dwarves.”

“The d… The what?”

“He knows what it means, don't worry.”

“Can  _ I _ know what that means in advance, too?”

Willy opened his mouth; then he closed it. Then he opened it again; and closed another time.

“Just go ask him.” he concluded, “He knows better than me.”

It was not like Kim had any other choice, especially not after that tremendous amount of exposition he had just gotten. So he began searching for his son by making his way down at Heavenly Toys - he could have called for his help there, getting some clarity on whatever the “green dwarves” might have entailed as he did some work. Such thoughts revealed themselves to be unneeded, as right next to Shawn's workbench was a trash can where the Irishman threw away scraps of fluff and stuffing, and impossibly perched upon the edge of that very same trash can like a funky oversized vulture was Eska, looking intently at the scraps as they fell and impaling some particularly slow ones with his long claw-like fingers, pulling at them with his nails as if trying to knit something out of them.

“Having fun?” Kim greeted him with a fond grin.

Eska turned to him: “Not really.” he replied, although there was a slight vibration in his throat, like a purr.

“Wanna help me out, then? I'm having trouble with, ah… Emotions.”

“Since when aren't ya havin’ trouble with ‘em?” Shawn snickered, but he seemed relieved that Kim was sorting them out for once. Then he realized who Kim was talking to. He stared at him, then at Eska. “Y’know what, go ‘head.”

Kim took in a breath, pondering quickly on whether to explain the whole thing or go right to the point. He settled for the latter.

“Willy told me you can help me with this, so.” and he looked directly into Eska's pupils, “What on Earth are the green dwarves.”

The spawn of sleepless night terrors did not bat an eye: “Ah, yes.” he said very calmly, “They throw you in the hole.”

Kim did bat an eye. Both of them. Twice. He blinked twice, is what I'm saying.

“They what?”

“But not me.”

“Eska,” the toy maker cupped the eldritch pup's cheeks before the madness could proceed, “Light of my eyes, son, child, dearest. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The dwarves.”

“Yes.”

“They throw you in the hole.”

“What hole?”

“Love.”

“So love is a hole.”

“Yes. But not me.”

“They don't throw you?”

“No.”

“Because you're aromantic?”

Eska nodded.

“Ok.” Kim exhaled. He elaborated the information for a couple of seconds: “I'll be back in a minute.”

And then his head plummeted down towards the centre of the Earth, his arms tried to pop out of his shoulders, his legs bent like silly straws and his entire back rolled itself into a retracted yoyo.

He woke up on extremely tender grass. Sitting up he found himself in some sort of vast rocky garden, with green creatures about twice the height of the blades of grass running around.

Those were definitely the dwarves.

They looked  _ nothing _ like dwarves.

The toy maker was savvy of several cultures’ folklores and mythologies, and he could testify that whatever these beings were could not have in any way fit any of the most common descriptions of a dwarf. Maybe only the pointed shape of their head (which could have been caused by anything, be it a cap, their hair or the actual structure of their skulls) might have been reminiscent of more familiar depictions of gnomes; or maybe Eska simply lacked the right word for them and had done what he could with the one he thought was best to describe what these little scuttlers were, which had still proved to be a valuable and commendable effort.

A dwarf took notice of him and approached him, swaying to and fro with the frenzy of a crazed metronome. Once close enough, they spoke: their language was comprised mostly of fast paced clicking sounds, a middle ground between a typewriter, Morse code, and a woodpecker pecking wood.

“I'm not from here.” Kim explained in English.

The dwarf's tongue gave a sharp and understanding ‘clack’, leaving their mouth open for their many small, nearly transparent teeth to become visible. They asked another question.

“Oh, it's just- I need some clarity, see.” he replied, eyeing a darker spot not too far away from the two of them. He pointed at it: “Is that the hole?”

The dwarf nodded.

“You threw me in it for my wife, right, Niamh…?” he asked, testing if he had gotten the right idea on how it all worked; when the creature nodded he added: “Was I thrown in again? For, uh… Johan Ramirez? You know him, right-”

At this moment the critter vehemently shook their head; they grabbed Kim’s hand and dragged him away across the field, their backs to the hole. There seemed to be another hole not too far away, which although of similar width did not appear to be as deep: it was instead rather long, like a trench or a small pit, its sides gently channeling whoever was hurled into it so that they could safely end on its bottom. The dwarf pointed at its edge and explained the deal in their clicking language.

“Oh! Oh, that… Makes sense, actually.”

They then gave a sharp crack.

“I'd rather you didn't do that.”

But the dwarf grabbed him with their small yet strong hands and hoisted him up in the air, his fate not up for debate. Neither was up for debate the fact that Kim was not going to allow himself to be thrown into a trench at high speeds by a little green creature possessing an excessive strength for their tiny frame; so he passed out.

His head sprung upwards much like that of a jack-in-a-box, soul successfully returned to his body and Eska (who had only moments before gently nudged at his father's skull) only slightly startled as indicated by the brief scrambling of his limbs backwards.

“How’d yer trip go?” Shawn nonchalantly asked, stitching together a doll. There was a large pile of the completed ones beside him, probably used to keep track of how long Kim was out. “Met the ‘green dwarves’ or whatever ya call ‘em?”

“They put me in a ditch for Johan,” Kim groaned, stretching out his back. “I woke up right before they could throw me. It was definitely a ditch. That sounds… so weird.”

“What’s a ditch?” Eska questioned. His orange eye sparkled when a moment of genius struck him with the prospect of it being a horrid swear word he had not yet heard of: “Bad way to say male dog?”

Shawn snorted, then explained, “A ditch is a small hole, narrow but long. Usually on the side of roads and fields.”

Eska thought for a moment or two, trying to visualize it, then nodded sagely.

“Makes sense,” he rasped, closing his eyes. Kim nodded to himself, agreeing. 

“So?” the Irishman queried.

Kim furrowed his brows. “So what?”

“Now you know what you feelin’?”

“Yes, and?”

“You gonna do anything about that?”

Kim was taken aback. He thought about it for a second or two, stunned.

“I’ll talk to Niamh about it.”

***

“Ye should kiss him.”

“Niamh, no.”

“Why not?

“I can't just kiss my boss!”

“I'm yer boss too in a sense and ye kiss me.”

“You also happen to be my wife.”

“But ye'd kiss me anyways if I weren't yer wife.”

“No I wouldn't!”

“Why not?”

“I literally spent more or less a whole year fighting the urge to kiss you specifically  _ because _ you were my boss in a sense.”

“Come on, Kim,” Niamh grinned, taking his hand and leading him carefully. “I’m takin’ ye to Mr. Drew. Yer gonna give him a kiss.”

“No I’m not!” Kim squeaked, punting his feet on the ground so hard his heels were threatening to dig a hole in the wood: “Absolutely not.”

“Kim.”

“Why are  _ you _ of all people trying to rope me into this? You're my  _ wife _ ! My  _ spouse _ ! You shouldn't be encouraging me to  _ cheat _ on you!”

The manager gently held his hips between her plump palms, eyes soft and so very loving.

“Cushlamachree, a kiss ain't cheatin’!” she assured him sweetly.

“But what if-” Kim started before biting his tongue to a halt.

Niamh's pale blue eyes felt him color pink and orange under her fingertips, afraid and worried: “If...?” she encouraged him. A warm, calm red spread from her palms and seeped slowly into his body.

The toy maker looked down without answering.

She understood him anyways.

“If it goes further it'll be fine f'r me, I promise. An’ I'm sure it'll be good f'r Henry and Jo too.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely.”

Kim bit his lower lip. He became conscious of how he was torturing his fingers, attempting to scrape at his nails since he had been trying not to chew on them.

His voice came out barely above a squeak: “Are you sure it would be ok?”

“I promise.” she grinned.

He replied with a wobbly smile.

“So ye'll kiss ‘im now?”

Kim inhaled. Then he let out a long, long high pitched groan that meant ‘god I would but asking would literally kill me’.

Niamh giggled, glowing slightly: “Ah, ‘s alright!” she chipperly exclaimed. She tightened her grip on his hips slightly (although not hard enough to hurt him, of course) and hoisted her husband over her head like it was nothing, the sudden movement frightening the toy maker so much that he tapped into his ancient hedgehog instincts and curled into a perfect sphere. Then, with the thundering stump-stump-stump of her feet, the manager of Joey Drew Studios sprinted across the building.

Johan jumped in his own seat, his knees bashing the bottom of his desk, when he heard three strong kicks against his office door.

“JO!” he heard a strong voice from behind it. “JO?”

“I-I'm here, I'm here!” the animator was quick to answer as he tried to get his heart to a normal rate once more: “I hear you, Niamh, don't b-break down the door again! You can come in!”

“YE GOTTA OPEN IT YERSELF, I GOT ME HANDS FULL!”

“Full of what?!” Johan’s voice was horrified, and there was the sound of papers and pens clattering to the floor and a hissed ‘damnit’, before the door swung open. “Oh. Full of Kim. D-do come in. How can I help you?”

Niamh extended her terrified husband to him: “Kiss him.”

“Wha…” Johan visibly swallowed, shocked, trying to process. “What?”

“He'd love t’ kiss ye but he's too anxious t’ ask.”

Joey furrowed his brows and tilted his head, puzzled. An odd request, but… a want was a want, as his mother would have said, and who was he to invalidate a want? He bowed, blushing, just a tad, to press a kiss to Kim’s brow, soft and princelike. The toy maker hid his scream in his throat, resulting in a drawn out squeaking wheeze.

“Ah.” Niamh spat out, trying not to laugh. “I think he meant on the mouth.”

Joey stared, the red of his eyes seeming to seep outward to his cheeks.

“I need to sit,” he commented, and thus lay on the floor. Niamh set her nervous husband down beside him. They looked like a perfect match, looking at them from above, perfectly anxious in all forms. “Hello, Kim.”

The other man exhaled a wordless response.

Another man entered the room, walking past Niamh with a nod, then tripped on a rather boneless leg that had melted across the room, almost falling flat on his face, had he not caught himself on his hands and with a firm push to the ground, righted himself.

“Hey Kim, Jo,” Henry smiled, looking down at them with some confusion. “What are you two doing on the floor?”

“They should kiss but they're too anxious to.” Niamh explained for them.

The doctor looked at her fairness with bewilderment. His gaze shifted back on the dark men, eyes as wide as the planet that donned their same colors, and shook his head, tutting as if to say ‘now this won't do at all’.

“You can hold Kim and I can hold Johan,” Henry remarked thoughtfully. “They’re both rather like dolls in that regard.”

“I’m not a t-toy!” Joey protested, clinging to the ground firmly even as Ray tried to pry him up. “I will lay here until tuesday. This is where I l-live now.”

“TOO LATE.” Niamh exclaimed, and strong pale arms slithered under the thin thin frame of her boss. She pulled; her smile fell in favor of a confused grimace. She tried again, and again, and again another time, but the slender animator would not budge from his spot. “What in the name o’ hell?”

“It’s not going to work, Niamh,” Henry told her. “Believe me. He is more stubborn than a mule and tougher than bamboo.”

“He might be but I'm strong!” she complained, just like a child might. “He can’t just… be a lump there, not when I’ve tried ta move him!”

“I can and will r-remain a lump.”

“Bah, stay there, then!”

She shot him a venomous glare. Johan looked as she resigned to her fate, leaving his body be - and fulminously grabbed her own husband instead, holding him right above Johan's face despite his soft high pitched shrieking as he was moved around. In the heat of the panic his leg swung free and kicked her right in the mouth.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, I'm sorry!” Kim apologized, absolutely mortified, “Oh my god, dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“ ‘s alright, ‘s alright!” she was quick to reassure him. She appeared perfectly unbothered by having had a shoe sole stamped on her face mere seconds before, but then again, she was a beast of a woman who could have probably countered a tank, so it was not like this was much damage to her. “I know ye didn't mean to, cushlamachree, don't worry.”

Ray stared at her face - at her lips, specifically, and the lack of any smudges of black lipstick that should have indeed been caused by the impact.

“What kind of lipstick do you use?” he asked, wowed, planning to advise the brand to Linda. “It resisted a whole shoe to the face!”

The Irish woman turned to him with a puzzled expression.

“I ain't wearin’ lipstick today.”

In that moment of wide eyed silence that followed, Johan decided he had enough of all of this insanity, and turned to lay on his stomach and face to the floor.

Niamh, after a moment of thought, put Kim over Johan’s back gently, so they would have been spooning had either made the slightest effort to, Kim’s arms on both sides of the lanky chicano, yet both legs leaning over to the side. From his position, the barely italian man could get a better view of the other’s soft ink blue hair, of the way it curled into tender spikes of insanely (yet perfectly pleasant) hot flames at the base of a bunsen burner. He wondered for only a moment how it would have felt to run his hand through it.

“Pst.” Henry called for her with a stage whisper. “Maybe we should let them be, you know? Let them sort it out by themselves?”

She nodded. 

Henry ushered her out of the room, and then closed the door behind themselves, grinning as he pulled out a key and clicked the lock in place. Luckily for himself he had muscles to spare, because the sound activated a switch inside Niamh's brain that told her somebody had just locked her husband in a room without allowing him any way to exit, effectively putting him in what was very possibly a dangerous trap, which was a capital offense to be paid in blood. He blocked her raging fists with no little struggle; though they were nearly equally matched, Henry’s pulled punches being made up for Niamh’s blind rage. This scuffle revealed itself to be a blessing in disguise, for he found himself close enough to her ear to whisper his true intentions and assure her that no, he was not planning to hurt her husband, not at all, on the contrary: he was paving the way for his (and their plan's) success. Very luckily, this was enough reason to convince her not to fold him into an extremely painful origami crane of flesh and bones.

Meanwhile Kim, hearing the telltale clack of a lock closing, pulled himself out of the revere of Johan’s beautiful wavy hair, leaping up to check the door. Realizing that he was locked in Johan’s office, he shrieked; “ESKA!”

“No son will save ye, cushlamachree!” Niamh’s booming laugh informed him. He jiggled the handle again, in vain, knowing that Joey’s locks would not open just like that. “We’re gonna leave you two be fer… uh, how long do you think, Henry?”

“Twenty minutes?” Ray offered. Niamh nodded. “Twenty minutes. You two better have a nice kiss by then, or so help me god.”

The toy maker gave a series of rapid punches on the door: “Betrayed!” he cried out, hoping the allegations would have sparked a wish for destruction in his wife, thus freeing him from the horrible ordeal of having to deal with his own mess of feelings with the man who was their direct object of interest, “Betrayed by my own spouse! Jail for Niamh! Jail for a thousand years and then some!”

“Knowing Henry,” Johan mumbled from the floor, “He probably took her t-to the break room. Aka, the other side of the studio.”

“This fast? What is he, a steam locomotive?”

“No, but our elevators are.”

Johan watched as Kim opened his mouth wide and let out a sound similar to that of a plastic or rubber duck toy, as if he had one hidden between his teeth only now let free from the pressure he had subjected it to while his mouth was closed. He blinked, curling in his body and slowly lifting it with his arms, ending in a crane position.

“Well, while we’re here, d-do you have anything you’d like to talk about?” he asked, looking up at Kim, incrementally extending a leg back. “Anythin’ at all. Doesn’t have to be work r-related or about this… situation.”

Like his legs. Dear GOD his  _ legs _ . One was completely outstretched, now, the other still tucked to his body. Was he always this flexible? Kim willed himself into not starting to sweat.

“You stretch.” he eloquently squeaked as Johan’s other leg imperceptiby joined the other. When did he start moving it? Did it ever stop?

“Mm. Yoga. Been d-doing it for years,” Johan exhaled, his leg continuing its journey, bending at the knee so slowly. “And you do t-too, if I recall correctly.”

“Oh, uh, I… n- no, actually.”

“Not yoga,” Johan corrected gently. The tip of his toe was at the small of his back, the other leg making the slightest of motions to join its pair. “Just f-flexible exertions.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, sometimes.” the toy maker tore his eyes off of the other, especially off of the curve to his pants which his feet were hovering above of, and directed them at the floor instead, wildly embarrassed. Mind racing to determine what he could continue the topic on, he remarked; “I’ve been rotoscoped because of it before.”

“I am well aware o-of that,” Joey smiled. His legs were criss crossed in the air now, slowly shifting his torso to be upward. A bolt of curiosity struck him: “Have you ever been x-rayed?” he asked.

The toy maker looked at him confused.

“It's just, you're r-really flexible.” the animator explained, peering at him under half moon lenses “Maybe there's something in your b-bones, some kind of… I don't know, deficiency - not in a bad way, of course - of some kind?”

“I… I don't think I've ever checked, if. If my bones are still there.”

“Oh? You used to have them and then they went away?” Johan inquired jokingly, a twinkle in his eyes as he rose his arms to pose in a full hand stand.

“I-!” Kim flushed, embarrassed and impressed, “I, well I'm sure I have bones! Kinda. Probably. I mean, I am a human being so I…  _ should _ have them. At least.”

“You sound very unsure for someone who s-should have bones.”

“Well, I've never seen them!”

Joey laughed a hearty laugh, stopping to breathe as he bent backwards slowly lowering his feet to a wheel pose, and Kim's face grew a few shades darker. What a lovely sound he made! It was so sweet and gentle and honest that it even managed to pry Kim from the door he so terribly wished would open already and make him take a few steps closer.

From his new position the toy maker noticed with horror how any and all words had completely left his brain, leaving his head emptier than a Windows screen saver. So he did the only rational thing he could do and mimicked his pose without any effort. He had no idea what he was trying to achieve with this - perhaps some kind of camaraderie? Closure via the unified wild bending of their backs? Just an attempt at destressing. Hopefully it was not weird. If it was he would have just dug his grave into the floor and rolled into it like a shriveled tardigrade. Perfect escape plan. Easy as pie, works in every and all settings no matter what.

Johan’s second laugh made that fear vanish. Kim lifted his head, and froze, as the laugh stopped. The laugh stopped because Kim had misjudged their distance. It did not stop from pain or because Kim had done something wrong. There was a soft pressure on his lips, and then it was gone, because Johan had flopped to the floor. 

Kim's first thought was,  _ Oh No. _ He staggered towards the animator worriedly, even forgetting to break his position in the haste of checking if Joey was alright.

His second thought was,  _ Oh No, Was That A Kiss? Yes, It Was. _

His third thought was panicked screaming and the urge to transform into a deceased hedgehog.

Which he did.

He fell to the ground in the shape of an orb and prayed to gentle Thanatos and kind Hel so that they would hurl him into the pits of the Earth.

“D-did you do that on purpose?” Johan asked in a whisper, blushing madly, covering his face with his hands. “I know it wasn’t m-much, but….”

Kim shook his head vehemently. He did not want to even look at him.

“D-did I do somethin’ wrong?” Joey asked again, worried, pushing himself up to sit. “Is there anything I could d-do for you?”

He mumbled an incomprehensible reassurance.

“I, uhm… should, should I…?”

A finger carved out of dark brown gems slithered from a ball of limbs into Johan’s palm, curling inside it like a small snake in a mute request.

“Do you want me t-to… to hold your hand?”

He nodded, eyes hidden inside the crook of his elbow, cheeks ablaze.

When he felt his hand being gently squeezed he curled a little tighter into himself. He let out a rather high pitched hum, anxious shame and a weird kind of elation swelling and tingling in his chest at the same time. This was the last thing that should have made him this shy and yet there he was, collapsing like a sandcastle in the high tide just because his  _ hand _ was being  _ held _ by a very kind and sweet (demi)man who also happened to be his boss.

Ok, but in his defense: Johan had  _ very good  _ hands to hold. Like they were  _ made _ specifically to hold and be held.

“Y-you good there?”

Would Johan believe him if he told him he had forgotten he was holding a hand still attached to a living human being? A gorgeous and gentle one?

“Yeah.” he squeaked. “‘m fine.”

“Can I have my hand back, or…?”

“... Can I keep it a couple more minutes?”

“Sure, of course you may,” Johan hesitated, biting his lip a bit. “Though I do have the need to return to my desk. You m-may accompany me if you’d like.”

Kim slowly unraveled himself. He stood up to his trembling legs, still unable to face Joey fully, and walked with him to the desk. He took a seat directly across from the animator; their hands intertwined above the desk, Johan’s elbow resting on it to allow the holding to continue undisturbed even as he began to work a little.

Henry had often commented that Johan worked like a machine, and now Kim could see what he meant. Joey  _ did _ work like a well oiled, high standard, comfortable machine. 

It was incredible to watch. Incredibly soothing too, in a way. It was like observing an old automaton that had never lost the fluidity of its movements as time had gone by, sharp in his wits yet delicate and precise in the way he executed the motions. Kim physically could not tear his eyes away from the scarred fingers, gently squeezing the hand in his grasp. Despite how thin it was, or how many scars and calluses covered it, it felt soft and holdable.

He pursed his lips, gathering a little bit of courage: “Hey, uhm, Jo?”

Wonderful red eyes moved to meet his, visage lifting, innocuous and unassuming. “Hm?”

Kim felt the heat burn his entire face off with the strength of his blush. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, and began leaning forward, towards the gorgeous lips he still could not quite look at without shivering a little, those lips that opened ever so slightly-

A big ol’  _ bang! _ and the door flew open, making the toy maker jump so high that he nearly went through the roof, heartbeat exploding in his chest. Instead of meeting the floorboards however, his back was promptly caught by the strong snowy biceps of his beloved wife, author of the horribly loud noise that had startled him in the first place.

“Hello, me cushlamachree!” she cheerfully greeted him, “Did ye get yer kiss?”

“Ah, well, yes, technically.” Johan answered in the toy maker's stead, since he was paralyzed in her arms akin to a half frozen cat, “Not voluntarily, but yes. Quite an accident, I c-can assure you.”

“Damnit!” Henry exclaimed from behind Niamh. “You two deserve to have a good kiss.”

Suddenly, a rattling through the ceiling: “Father was kissed?” a creaking voice echoed in the vents, “Father was kissed by Jo?”

Johan dove to hide under the desk.

‘I am not here,’ he signed rapidly. ‘I am in. The Toy Department. Anywhere but here.’

But Eska's head emerged with the wild halo of his hair and his twig-like limbs from the wall.

_ “ _ **_JOHAN RAMIREZ_ ** _ ,” _ he thundered, scuttling down to the desk he clearly knew the man to be hiding under, lifting him up with ease and holding him in the air, Johan’s feet a good six inches from the ground, yelping in surprise and the slightest touch of anxiety.  **_“DID YOU FUCK MY DAD?”_ **

“I haven't even made l-love to my own husband!” the animator hollered as loud as his soft voice would go, cracking with restraint, and just a touch fearful.

**_“ANSWER THE QUESTION.”_ **

“That  _ was  _ the answer!” Joey scrambled, feet swinging, not to kick, but to wiggle. “Does the fact that I have n-not done anything of the sort with my own spouse n-not clearly indicate that I would not have done something similar with Kim?!”

The factotum thought about it for a second; finally deciding on getting a kiss as well, because god dammit if he did not deserve a kiss too (and god dammit if he would not have liked to get one from Jo in particular), he generically nuzzled his mask against the other man's face, lifting it ever so slightly and gaining a squeak from the lips he pressed the smallest of imperceptible kisses to, before nuzzling him once more and settling him on his office chair.

“Oh, now that's a kiss right there.” Henry whistled, “See your son? Even  _ he _ knows how to smooch a handsome man! You should learn a couple things from him!”

Kim hid his face in the crook of his wife’s neck and let out an exasperated sob.

***

“Oh my god.”

Niamh turned around, the whisper loud enough to stir her from her half awaken slumber. Kim had eyes wider than tea saucers.

“I almost kissed him.” he whispered again as the dread seeped into his words. “And I accidentally  _ did _ kiss him.”

Unlucky for him, a sleepy Niamh had even less tact than a fully awake Niamh: “Was it good?”

“Love,  _ please _ .”

“I‘m sayin’ this f'r you.”

“I’d rather not,” he squeaked, “I'd rather not talk about it right now.”

“ ‘s alright… Are ye gonna go in to work t’morrow?”

Kim felt his body disintegrate. 

“I’m going to go,” Kim said slowly. “But I will avoid Joey like the plague.”

“Joey has the plague?”

“No, I’m just going to avoid him, as if he was the plague.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” her head plopped back into the pillow as she mumbled thoughtfully, already allowing herself to be handled by the currents of sleep once again: “ ‘s been a long time s'nce the plague an'ways, ‘t would be weird ‘f he got it…”

Johan maybe would not have been so sure about that, but then again, he was nowhere near their house that night.

And Kim made sure to be nowhere near the man for the next few weeks. He picked up his checks from Grant. He got news of what was what through Wally and Willy. The art department he avoided entirely - he never knew when the man would show up there. And he especially avoided Joey’s office. Truth be told, he just did his best to vanish whenever even the  _ tip _ of Johan's shoe entered his field of vision. He would detect it, pale very visibly, excuse himself, and fold his body through a vent to scuttle away like his son did every day for eight hours and made everyone wonder why Johan paid him.

Of course, the same flexibility that allowed him to slither away from direct confrontations was also the reason why Kim had more responsibilities than just toymaking, and hearing that Norman and Henry were looking for him reminded him with a horrible realization that he was needed upstairs for a rotoscope session that he had completely forgotten about.

“The stairs‘re gonna take too much time, lad!” Shawn pointed out to him when he saw a black lightning bolt make a run for the nearest staircase. “Get the elevator!”

For once, he listened to Shawn's advice (mainly because for once, it had not seemed so terrible) and catapulted himself towards the death machine sputtering about as it dignifiedly wheezed its way up and down the studios (though, it was engineered by Johan, and he informed them that it only made those noises because of the ‘modifications’. One of the writers had expressed their bafflement at finding a miniature toy jazz orchestra and a disco ball built in it; they had loudly argued [read: yelled] that neither were necessary additions, but Jo had textually replied, quote, ‘I made the damn thing, I do what I want with it’. Jack, on his part, had expressed no complaints with the coffee machine that was also hidden within it).

Kim passed Thomas in a flash, barely waving a hand in his direction to say hello as he slammed what appeared to be his entire head against the button that led the elevator to the floor he was on, like a Spanish bull so piqued by the matador's red mantle that it had actually managed to hit the flapping target together with its flapper. He clung to the gate and fell inward to the elevator as soon as it arrived, kicking out a leg to delicately press the button to take it to the second floor.

His brain jiggled wildly like an invincible jello behind his eyes, the sparks of gold in his irises wobbling with it as his knees buckled and nearly sent him sprawling on the floor. He was saved only by a pair of soft hands getting a hold of his wrists and pulling him upwards, helping him to his feet.

“Heavens!” he heard, “Are you a-alright?”

Kim looked up, head still swaying a little for the hit, and stared right into the face he had been trying his best not to look at.

“Fuck.” he eloquently said, making Johan’s eyes widen slightly, much like all other times he had tried to begin a conversation with Johan in the past weeks. Johan’s face went blank, lips a surprised line and eyes wide as he glanced to the side, unsure what to do now. Then, the lights flickered, flashed, and went out, the elevator catching on the emergency grates that shot out instantly. Johan glanced about, recognizing they were caught between floors. However, Kim did not realize at first, and asked, “What happened?”

“Bond?” Johan called, and a small mechanical singer appeared from a slot in the ceiling. “Status report?”

“Sabotage of wiring, sir.”

“Set to repair functions please, and report relative repair time.”

“Repair functions confirmed.”

The miniature singer vanished into the ceiling, and both Kim and Johan could hear small tools being put to use.

“Relative repair time is fifteen minutes, sir.” they could hear from above them. “Setting to work now.”

Oh no.

Somewhere not too far, but not too close either, a pair of not very gracious but quite recognizable cackles reached their ears.

Kim slid away from the animator's grip and clutched the metal bars of the elevator with a fury that could have turned hell into a very long, very deep and very convoluted ice skating rink.

“SHAWN!” he screamed, “I WILL SHOVE MY STOOL SO FAR DOWN YOUR NOSE, YOUR EYES WILL POP OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS LIKE POPCORN! AND  _ YOU. _ ” he added as Thomas laughed a little louder and a bit more hysterically, “YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO  _ STAND _ WHEN I'M DONE SEWING YOU ASSCHEEKS SHUT WITH THE STRONGEST THREAD I CAN FIND!”

Johan merely blinked in understanding. He pulled on a specific bar, and it morphed into a swirling chair of liquid metal.

Sure, alright. This might as well happen now.

Kim looked at him for a little; unaware of how to exactly summon a seat for himself, he briefly ignored his typical shyness - aided by the fact that he was still not over the handyman and toymaker’s unified betrayal - and let himself gently sit on top of Joey's thin legs, much to the man’s surprise.

Truth be told, he had expected the bony femurs to feel much… bonier. Sharper. More uncomfortable to sit on. They were actually much softer than how they looked like, a bit like his hands, so thin and scarred and yet so sweet and cushion-like… oh wait this was  _ Johan _ oh fuck oh  _ shit he was sitting on Johan's legs like it was nothing oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no - _

“You’ere s-shaking, Kim.”

Rather incredible how his soft voice had not been affected by the intense trembling, since the toymaker was literally phasing through the flesh and bone with how he was vibrating.

“Kim, are you alright?” Johan’s voice seemed to come as if under ink. “You might be having a p-panic attack, I’m not sure, but I need you to breathe for m-me, ok? We’re not going to be in here l-long.”

Oh, he was alright. Partially. Vaguely.

“I-I-I'm-m-m-m f-i-i-i-i-ne-ne-ne-ne.”

“Try to breathe, ok?”

Kim inhaled through gritted teeth. His gaze fell on the dark fingers covered in thin scars, so close and soft and radiating with comfort. He fiddled idly with his own, fighting the urge to chew anxiously at his nails.

Johan followed his gaze, and took Kim’s hands into his own.

“I’m here. Breathe with me, alright?” Johan’s voice was melodious, soothing. “In… and out.”

Kim's lungs filled and emptied slowly, following the rhythms dictated by the artist’s words. The other man's palms were so easy to squeeze, so calming to hold.

“Better?”

He nodded: “A little.” he answered. Before he knew it he was holding those hands back and rising them slowly up to his mouth, but he stopped almost immediately. He had taken way too much initiative already.

“Is there anything I c-can do for you?”

If Kim had a braver, more demanding, quicker character than he had, he might have said; “Shut up and kiss me” or had done the action himself.

Instead he just brushed his thumb on Johan's fingers, slowly. He mumbled a request with what barely qualified as a breath; Joey leaned a little closer as he strained to hear his words better.

“Could you repeat that, please?”

“It's nothing.”

“I think I heard you s-saying something.”

“It's nothing, just…”

“Just…?” he prompted, though his eyes were soft, undemanding.

“If I…” he swallowed, “If I could… kiss… your, your… your hand.”

Johan’s mouth opened just so, eyes widening half a millimeter, and he closed his mouth to whet his lips.

“If… if you’d like,” he nodded, the slightest fall and raise of his chin. “Do as y-you wish.”

The toymaker played with the hand in his own clutch a little, heart attempting to burst into confetti inside of his thorax. He lifted it slowly, very carefully, as of it had been an extremely dangerous bomb, until his lips were pressed on its back.

It was soft.

Everything about Johan was soft.

Or was it?

Kim felt like he absolutely needed to check.

His mouth slipped a little forward, now kissing the man's wrist. It, too, was soft, though a different form of soft, more the soft of felt rather than plush. He waited for a response, for a signal in case this was too much; the man only watched him with utter shock, as if he never dreamed to be treated this way by anyone. 

Kim kissed a little further still - first climbing up to Joey’s forearm and then jumping straight to his shoulder, again finding a new kind of softness under his lips wherever they landed. He found his way to the jaw, letting the animator's beard - still soft, a new soft once more - scratch gently at his mouth as he pressed against his chin. And then… and then, maybe because he was feeling braver after all the ‘preparation’ or because he was not paying enough attention to what he was kissing, too enthralled by the man's softness, he kissed his mouth.

He then pulled away and immediately short circuited, sending him into a catatonic state where all he could do was to blankly stare at nothing in particular.

“K-Kim…?” Johan’s soft - even  _ that _ was soft - voice called to him, with the slightest measure of fear. “Did I d-do something wrong?”

Met with no response, the animator’s fingers ventured to gently poke at the unchanging gem-like face once, twice, and he would have gone for thrice too if the elevator had not buzzed and jolted back to life. The movement managed to snap the toymaker out of his trance as well: Kim looked around unfazed by the sudden upward motion, seemingly surprised. He turned to Johan calmly.

“We're still in the elevator?” he asked, not without a hint of amazement.

“I, y- yes, we're, we're still in the - A-are you alright?”

“I'm having many thoughts but all of them are good, so I guess I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank goodness…”

“You know many things, right?”

“I, er- yes, I do-”

“Do you know if one can shed feelings?”

“If one can… if one can w-what?”

“Shed feelings, like dogs shed fur.”

“I…” Johan seemed positively flummoxed. “I have no idea. F-feelings can become requited, if that’s what you’re asking - and thus they can settle. Or fade.”

“Ah.”

“It's called… being lithromantic, I b-believe? Possibly….”

“No, I think they just settled down.” his tiger's eye irises stared straight into Johan's red one, “It's nice being able to look at you without having my chest shake like a jet engine during launch.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Johan inquired. “if you no longer n-need, er, my services as… whatever this has been?”

“... Kiss practice?”

“S-sure, we can, we can call it that.”

Kim bit down on a fingernail, rummaging through his little brain drawers to find whatever was giving him that nagging feeling of having forgotten something.

“I don't know.” he mumbled. His gaze fell on the animator's lips again. “Did anyone ever tell you they're very soft?”

“What are?” Johan’s bewildered expression became all the more confused.

Kim answered with a vague gesture - one that caught in its range Joey's hands, his arms, the upper part of his torso, his shoulders, his neck, and his entire head.

Johan had absolutely nothing clarified by said gesture, but blushed deeply nonetheless.

“Well, no.”

The elevator arrested itself with a huff and its gates opened upon an ominously approaching thumping of short heeled feet; Niamh passed them like a grotesquely pale lightning bolt, disappearing towards the stairs. She then came back just as fast to plant herself in front of the hellish contraption and stared at her husband sitting on their boss's legs.

“ **Ye kissed him** ?” she asked with the excessively loud voice that she used whenever she had not had the time or focus to shift from yelling to a respectable volume.

The toymaker replied: “Yeah.”

Johan turned red.

“ **How was it** ?”

“Very nice.”

And a bit redder. 

“ **Stellar,** ” the manager concluded, “ **I'm gonna go rip Shawn and Connor to wee paper shreds for stopping the damn elevator and makin’ the rotoscope session go feck itself fer fifteen minutes now** .” and like that she trampled away.

Kim paled visibly. Somehow, now he remembered what he had to be doing.

He bolted upwards, leaving Johan still sitting in the suspended cage, flushed and stunned, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to both quell his embarrassment and repeat his question. Unfortunately for him, Kim had already disappeared and was probably hurrying to apologize to Henry (who winked at Johan) and Norman. 

Johan blushed a bit, swallowing and looking at his shoes, and the elevator gate closed, sending him to his office - his original destination.

He worked as best as he could, although his mind enjoyed wandering every couple minutes or so towards the memory of Kim's mouth leaping gently across his skin. It was not an unpleasant memory, nor an excessively pleasant one - merely confusing and surprising. Despite the amount of men (and women) Johan had wooed and lost or won (more often the former, due to circumstance and thus heartbreak), he rarely came across one that looked to  _ him _ first, if any. It was, of course, a mite disappointing to know that it had been an infatuation to come and go, but Johan accepted it in stride.

His thoughts were briefly interrupted by a kind knock on his office door: “Come on in.” he invited his unknown guest.

Kim's dreadlocks fell softly on his shoulder as the toymaker timidly entered the room.

“Oh!” Johan attempted to rise to greet him, though a familiar ache sent him back to his chair. “I d-didn't expect you to c-come here.”

Kim lowered his eyes and began scratching softly at his thumbnail: “I’m sorry for… uhm. For, for the ‘kiss practice’.” he mumbled. “I should have… I should have probably asked.”

“Ah… But, I mean, you, you  _ did _ ask.”

“Only for the hand. I should… I should have stopped past that.”

“I did say you could d-do what you want,” Johan shuffled some papers on his desk. “And if you feel better now, then that’s good enough for me.”

Judging by how he hummed, Kim was not too sure of that.

“Kim. I would’ve stopped y-ya if it wasn’t.”

“Maybe you were too shocked…?”

“I'll say, I was - er, I still am pretty surprised.” Johan admitted with a short laugh. “But not for reasons you’d think. I assure you, it’s f-fine.”

The toymaker was still not fully convinced, but at least the weight under which his shoulders were tensing seemed a little lighter.

“You  _ are _ good yourself, now, right?” Johan confirmed, worriedly biting his lip. “I wouldn’t want to be a problem t-to you.”

The other man quickly shook his head and offered him a small smile, a silent reassurance that everything was fine. He toyed with his hands a little more as he shifted his gaze all around the room before suddenly fixing it on Johan’s gentle, worried, soft eyes. He opened his mouth to suck in a breath and his thorax expanded.

“You're… really good to kiss.” he breathed out. “Not that, not that that's all there is, of course! There's… there's honestly a lot about you, a lot really good about you and, and you're really soft and, and….”

“Kim. Kim Grosso, you don’t need to flatter me,” Joey told him.

The toymaker fiddled embarrassedly with the hem of his sleeves. “ ‘m honest, though.” he mumbled, “ ‘specially about the kissin’.”

Johan's lips opened in a relaxed grin with a giggle: “W-Would you like another one?” he queried with a spark in his scarlet eyes. “Another kiss?”

Kim grew a shade darker: “... Maybe.”

The animator smiled and Kim tried to stop staring at his lips, and managed to, for once.

“And then I stop bothering you.” he added immediately.

“You're not b-bothering me.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“A hundred percent positive?”

“Kim.”

Kim let out an amused snort and planted another kiss on the soft man's so very soft lips. Johan’s hands rested on his shoulders.

“You’re not gettin’ a raise out of this, by the way,” Johan chuckled. “If that’s what ya were aiming for.”

“Why would I?” Kim replied, jokingly offended, “Money doesn't have a mouth to kiss, let alone one this soft!”

Johan made an interesting noise as he landed a peck on Kim's cheek - a mix between a laugh and a sigh, blushing madly.

Kim was quite content, now.


End file.
